


Cigarette Burn

by damnrightitskakko



Category: Sengoku Basara
Genre: M/M, high school alternate universe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-14
Updated: 2014-07-14
Packaged: 2018-02-08 19:36:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1953555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/damnrightitskakko/pseuds/damnrightitskakko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was a gift to someone on tumblr because of a prompt and well. yes. well. stupid teenagers and all that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Masamune took a drag on his cig, and rested his head against the gate. He narrowed his good eye as he breathed out, and sighed. The sky was a brilliant blue overhead, and nary a cloud in the sky was in sight—much to Masamune’s chagrin. He scowled, and looked back down at the pavement underneath. After very little deliberation, he pulled out his cellphone from his pocket, and stared at the screen in growing frustration.

Not a single message.

“Oi—Masamune! Are you up here?”

Masamune inclined his head towards the stairwell, and soon enough he saw the familiarly spiky head of his friend come up. It was followed shortly after by the other’s sunny disposition.

“Aha! So you  _were_  here”, Ieyasu beamed, and walked briskly over to Masamune’s self-proclaimed enclave. “Your fondness of heights has given you away, friend.”

“Shut up”, Masamune grumbled, and took another drag. It was with great strength of will that he forced down the urge to blow the smoke into Ieyasu’s face—it wasn’t  _him_  that he was angry with, after all.

“So, what brought you here?” Ieyasu asked after a small silence. “You only make an effort to come up to the roof when something’s wrong.”

Masamune looked up, and examined the congenial expression on Ieyasu’s face with scrutiny. The two of them hadn’t been friends for more than two years (he wasn’t sure of exactly how long; keeping track of that kind of thing seemed petty). Yet, in the time they’d known each other, Ieyasu had shown a strange knack for  _knowing_  things about him—even some of the things that Masamune didn’t know about himself, or at least didn’t like to admit. It was a bit uncanny, but Masamune found himself not minding it that much. Sometimes, it was nice to have someone who  _got_  you hanging around.

And then, there was Kojuro.

“We got into a fight”, Masamune ground out reluctantly.

“Oh…that salary man lover of yours” Ieyasu noted, and sat down in front of him. Not too close, Masamune observed—the guy really  _did_ get him. “What about?”

“Hell if I know—one minute we were just getting along, and the next we were at each other’s throats! Something about me not being responsible enough or thinking ahead, or whatever rehashed lecture he’s been going on about recently. He even said that he’s gonna break up with me if I don’t get my act together! Tch—who does he think he is?” Masamune growled, and scratched the back of his head in agitation. “Break up with  _me_ —I’m the best goddamn thing he’s had for a while! The nerve of that guy—“

“Sounds to me like he’s just concerned about you,” Ieyasu interrupted, and leaned back on his hands. “Maybe he’s just trying to shock you into reflecting on your actions?”

“If that’s his gambit, he’s much more of an idiot than I took him for”, Masamune spat, and raised his brow in Ieyasu’s general direction. “Besides, aren’t you  _my_ friend? Why are you taking his side? You should be on my side no matter what.”

“Oh, come on, Masamune—you know better than that”, Ieyasu laughed, and for the briefest of moments, a sad smile ghosted across Ieyasu’s face.  “I’m not the kind of person who blindly follows his friends—and I don’t expect them to do the same for me if I’m in the wrong.”

An empty ache swelled in Masamune’s chest in sympathy, and he wondered at how stupid he could be at times. Of course he knew at least that much about Ieyasu—it was part of the reason why they were friends in the first place.

It had started back in freshman year, when the tyrannical Head Principal Toyotomi Hideyoshi still ran the school. Punishment was over the top, and none of the teachers seemed to give a fuck about how to run the place with respect. But then Ieyasu—a kid Masamune had only known from his grade ranking—came and asked him to sign a petition that would get sent to the school’s advisory committee requesting investigation of Hideyoshi’s methods.

Masamune called him crazy. Ieyasu had only laughed, and said it was better than being a coward.

In that moment, Masamune had instantly taken to him—which was just as well; Ieyasu had effectively estranged his long-time friend Mitsunari when the plan to oust Hideyoshi actually worked, and Masamune found himself enjoying the other’s company a lot more often as a result. He’d often wondered how the friendship between the two had broken down, but he’d never asked—and he had a feeling Ieyasu wouldn’t tell him, anyways. As much of a dick Mitsunari seemed, he knew that Ieyasu wouldn’t talk trash about someone he’d cared for—because he understood.

“…Whatever”, Masamune sighed, and leveled Ieyasu with a gaze. “You got your guns, alright—but that still doesn’t mean that you should be completely unsympathetic to me.”

“I’m not! I swear I’m not”, Ieyasu protested, and Masamune tried not to laugh at the pout that crossed the other’s face. “I just don’t feel comfortable taking sides when I don’t know if either of you have done anything wrong—and I don’t think either of you have. Aside from being stubborn, that is”.

“I’m not being  _stubborn_ ”, Masamune quipped.

Ieyasu’s eyes narrowed to scrutinizing slits.

“You can lay off the judging looks, I get enough of those from Kojuro as it is”, Masamune said with a scowl, and brought his cigarette back to his lips. “It’s gotten to the point where I feel like I’m fucking my old man instead of my boyfriend.”

The look on Ieyasu’s face was priceless for a few seconds. Then he shook his head, and fixed Masamune with a challenge on his face.

“You know, he does have a point. You keep smoking like that—“

Ieyasu suddenly lunged forward, and reached his hand out. On reflex, Masamune ducked his head backwards right as Ieyasu got in range.

“—and you won’t AAAAGGHH!!!”

The yelp sent a shock through Masamune’s system, and it took him a while to register what was going on. Ieyasu was violently shaking the hand he’d just reached out—and his cigarette had fallen somewhere…

 _Oh_.

“You idiot”, Masamune chided, and grabbed hold of Ieyasu’s flailing hand. “That won’t help, let me see—“

He brought the hand close so he could see, and gently pried open Ieyasu’s curled up fingers to take a look. It wasn’t hard to find; Ieyasu’s hands were always in varied states of bandaged ever since he’d taken up boxing, so all Masamune had to do was look at the non-bandaged skin to find what he was looking for.  A nasty red mark was on the tip of Ieyasu’s pointer finger, but it looked like it wasn’t going to get any worse. Still…

“Ow. Owww”, Ieyasu hissed, and tried to pull his hand away. “Is it bad? Should I run it under water or something—“

“No need”, Masamune interrupted, “Let me take care of it”—and he wrapped his mouth around the burnt finger.

The texture of the finger caught him off-guard; what the hell was a high school kid doing with hands that rough? In addition, there were all sorts of ridges in places they shouldn’t be, as if there were countless old invisible scars. He frowned, and gently tested his tongue against the underside of the finger to verify—and found much the same. It couldn’t  _just_  be boxing injuries…could it?

Masamune looked up from his task, and froze.

Ieyasu’s face was completely red. His eyes were wide open, and his mouth was parted in a mockery of a gape, as if he didn’t know what to do with his lips. Just then, Ieyasu caught his gaze, and gulped.

This was bad. This was very, very bad. That face was making him feel kind of high.

He released his hold on Ieyasu quickly, and felt just a little stupid when the other all-too-quickly retracted his hand. The blush wasn’t going away.

_Really, seriously bad._

“See? All better now”, Masamune said in a forced tone. “It wasn’t that bad. I’m a master at making people feel good—“

_Shit shit shit shit shit._

“—I mean. Jeez. What’s with that face?” Masamune rambled, and promptly looked away. “You look like I stole your first kiss or something,” he joked, and hoped that would clear the awkward atmosphere.

“I—I was just surprised, is all”, Ieyasu stuttered, and if it could be believed, he turned even _redder_. “Sorry. I don’t…it’s not like I haven’t been kissed before or anything, I just—“

Masamune’s hands twitched.

He had to get out of there. Before he did something  _really_  irresponsible.

“Well then, it’s about time to go back to class”, Masamune announced, and stood up a little too quickly. “Seeya on the other side, man—“

“Masamune, wait—“

Masamune bolted. He didn’t stop, he didn’t look back, and he most certainly did  _not_  go straight to the classroom. He took out his cellphone as he ducked into the men’s restroom, and dialed Kojuro’s number from memory as he slammed the bathroom stall behind him.

“Pick up, pick  _up_  you bastard” he groaned, and growled as the voicemail message came on. “Damnit—Kojuro! I’m going to see you tomorrow, and you’d better be available or else”, he threatened, and ended the call with a curse.

Ieyasu’s face wasn’t leaving his mind.

“Damnit to hell”, Masamune cursed, and began working his pants off. He was going to be late for class, but there wasn’t any helping it—there was no way he was facing Ieyasu in his current state. No way in hell. 


	2. chapter number 2 idk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> high school au shenanigans. mostly boners. You know. High school things.

Ieyasu struggled to fight down his blush. He tried to conjure up calming images; the smell of rainwater; the familiar pain of hitting a punching bag; the tang of good tea in his mouth.

None of it could overpower the memory of feeling his friend’s tongue sliding along his finger.

He roughly ran his fingers through his hair, successfully covering his face in the process. The burning heat of his face shocked him, and he was loathe to remove his hands for fear that someone might see how red he was. What on earth was wrong with him?

This wasn’t supposed to happen.  Not like this—not at  _all_.

Ieyasu peered through an opening between his threaded fingers, and looked around the classroom in growing dismay. Class had already started, and yet Masamune wasn’t back. Where had he gone?  _Why_  had he disappeared? Had his feelings been discovered at last?

He shook his head, and cursed the despairing nature to which his thoughts tended. This wouldn’t do. He couldn’t focus a whit on what the teacher was saying—much less face Masamune when he returned.  _If_  he returned.

It was with great pain and embarrassment that he got himself excused from class, claiming that he didn’t feel well—his face was red enough to convince anyone that a fever was at work—and he begrudgingly welcomed the relatively safe haven of the nurse’s office.  There, he forced himself to contemplate mundane things such as the ceiling tiles or the clean sheets. It just wasn’t enough; the only way to distance himself from the memory lay in distancing himself from the event. He asked the nurse if he could be excused, and arrangements were made for his legal guardian to get him.

“You mean your parents”, the nurse inferred, and they jotted down something on a pad of paper.

“No—my parents are overseas.”

The nurse raised his eyebrows.

“My legal guardian is taking care of me in their stead, for now” Ieyasu explained, and couldn’t help the annoyed twitch that followed the nurse’s obvious “harrumph” of disapproval. He knew that his family situation wasn’t typical, but it still smarted every time someone made any sort of deal about it; his life was touched by special circumstances enough as it was.

It was for these reasons that Tadakatsu agreed to meet him outside of the school gate, rather than going inside the school. He struck an imposing figure; he was taller than any other man Ieyasu had met in his life, and his figure was filled with a musculature that seemed almost built more than trained. The look was completed with his no-nonsense attire of black suit and fierce sunglasses. His appearance was tailored for a specific purpose that  _didn’t_  belong in Ieyasu’s school life; they both knew and understood that Tadakatsu’s intimidating presence had a time and place.

Ieyasu waved at his guardian, and the two walked together comfortably until they reached a nondescript car parked on the side. Ieyasu opened the side door to the backseat before Tadakatsu could do it for him, and promptly sat himself in the car without a word. Tadakatsu only raised his eyebrows in reaction before he also entered the car, and they were on the road without another similar exchange.

“I’m sorry for making you come out all the way like this”, Ieyasu murmured as he sank back into his seat. “Things…happened.”

Tadakatsu kept his eyes on the road, but Ieyasu noted the way he inclined his head towards him slightly.

“It’s complicated. Well. Not really all that complicated, I suppose. Maybe I’m just making it more complicated because I feel like it should.”

There was a small whiffling sound up front; Ieyasu recognized the meaning.

“I’m not trying to shut you out”, he explained, and smiled ruefully. “It’s just something that I think I need to resolve on my own; a rite of passage, if you will”. The phrase seemed stale on his tongue, and he frowned at how clinical he sounded about everything. It didn’t seem right; perhaps it was a sign that he really  _was_ approaching it wrong. He sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

“I don’t want you to worry about something you can’t help me with. You’re already doing enough for me; you help me in ways that only you can. Please, just…can I rely on you for that?”

There was a small squeaking sound, and Ieyasu looked up and saw that Tadakatsu was adjusting the rearview mirror. He was puzzled at first. Then, he noticed that the view was completely taken up by the lower half of Tadakatsu’s face—and his rare smile.

Ieyasu beamed.

“Thank you”, he said, and relaxed back into his seat for the rest of the drive home.

It turned out that no physical distance could separate a person from their own thoughts.

Ieyasu sighed as he dropped his school bags down on the floor, and fell back onto his own bed, as all of the energy suddenly sapped from his body. He closed his eyes, and the memories washed over him again. Masamune’s dismissal and departure flashed through his mind briefly, but then everything else returned; the texture of Masamune’s tongue rubbing against him, the shocking warmth of his mouth, the slow,  _slow_  path it trailed…

Ieyasu’s eyes snapped open. Oh god.

“Oh”, he mumbled despondently as he became aware of his new “problem”. He massaged his brow in consternation, and glumly took a look at the seat of his pants. Perfect—if there was any question in his mind about how thinking too hard about a problem could lead to others, this was perhaps the best example of such a thing. He groaned, and lay back on the bed in a swift whoosh of movement. It wasn’t late enough for a cold shower, and just willing the problem away with sobering thoughts wouldn’t help, not this time—not when such a stimulating memory was fresh in his mind.

He gnawed on his bottom lip in consideration. It looked like he was going to have to do “that” after all. Not that he really understood how the process worked. Sure, there were plenty of boys his age who talked about that sort of thing, but the topic of masturbation wasn’t exactly something that got taught in school; he had no clue about the mechanics, or if there were certain things he shouldn’t do, or—anything that was really  _important_  to know. He had a basic understanding that it could be bad if he didn’t do  _something_.

A horrible idea popped into his head. It was perhaps the most idiotic idea he’d ever had in his entire life—but at least it was a potential solution. He sat up, and leaned over the bed to grab his school bag. He then fished out his cellphone, and pulled up a contact number.

He was  _so_  going to get ribbed for this later.

He hit the call button. It took far less time for it to connect than Ieyasu thought reasonably possible.

“Oi oi there, Ieyasu! How’re ya doin’? It’s been a while since we last talked, hasn’t it?” the cheerful voice of his good friend Motochika rang out. It brightened Ieyasu’s day to hear his friend talk. Though Motochika was a few years older than him, the two had always been close; they had met outside of school during Ieyasu’s middle school years, and it was if the skies had opened up and delivered to him a friend he could always rely on.

“Yes— _three days_ ”, Ieyasu recounted, and felt like laughing; he normally would have. Yet, there was a more pressing need at hand (just hearing it worded like that in his head made it worse). If he put it off for much longer, he didn’t know what he’d do. “Listen…Motochika, there’s something I need to ask—“

“Sure, little buddy! You know ya c’n rely on me for anythin’!” Motochika proclaimed cheerfully, and Ieyasu took a deep breath. It was time to bite the bullet.

“I need you to tell me how to masturbate.”

The sudden silence on the other end of the line gave Ieyasu a strong desire to shrivel up and die.

“…Sorry,  _what?_ ” Motochika asked, at a much more subdued volume. “I don’t think I heard ya right, because I coulda swore you just said—“

“—that I need advice on masturbating, yes, you heard right”, Ieyasu interrupted, already beet red. This was definitely going even WORSE than he had expected it to.

“Seriously? Yer not jerkin’ my chain here?—wait, what am I talking about, it’s  _you_ ” Motochika relented, and Ieyasu heard the soft hiss of breath on the other end. “Of course you’re being honest. But seriously, what the hell, kiddo? How have you survived this long without a whack-off?”

“Just—“ Ieyasu sighed, and shook his head. “I don’t know—is it something that’s really necessary?”

“Uh,  _yeah_ ”, Motochika drawled. “It’s a normal bodily function, and if you haven’t been relievin’ yerself properly, that might lead to serious health problems. Don’t tell me you’ve just been giving yourself cold showers all this time?”

Ieyasu gulped.

“By the stars, you  _have_. You idiot! That ain’t no way to treat your body! What if you ever caught cold from that? No, I reckon you  _have_ caught cold, you—aarrgh”, Motochika cut off with a frustrated groan. “Fine, you brat—I’ll teach ya, if it means you won’t be goin’ round not takin’ care of yerself. Alright…fuckin’ hell. This is awkward.”

“I’ll say”, Ieyasu agreed.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.  Y’ready?”

“No”, Ieyasu admitted.

“Yeah, well you’re out of luck, ‘cuz we’re doing this right now. So first, you uh…you hold yerself, right? You followin’?”

“Just—hold on”, Ieyasu sputtered, and pulled out a notebook from his bag. He fished for a pen, and then laid the book out flat on the desk. “O-okay. Hold myself”, he repeated, and jotted it down.

“Okay…Well, technique varies, but uh… generally speaking, you use two hands. One if you’re desperate and need to hold yourself up against something—“

“What?” Ieyasu interrupted, and adjusted his hold on the cell phone so that it was nestled between his ear and the crook of his shoulder. “When would that happen?”

“Ya seriously want an example? By thunder—“ Motochika grumbled. “Just—like when you’re leaning against something and need to hold onto a support, because your legs give our or some shit. Or you’re with a partner and need to hold onto them—“

Ieyasu’s mental images became that much more vivid—

“—or say, when your other hand is holding somethin’ important  _like yer goddamn cell phone._ Anyways—you get a comfortable grip, not too firm and not too soft or anythin’ like that, and you just—sort of slide your fingers along the shaft. You still followin’?”

“Yes—firm grip, fingers down the shaft”, Ieyasu recounted, and finished writing it down. “And then?”

“And then that’s pretty much it, ‘cept you rinse and repeat until you get the job done” Motochika said, and a sigh came from the other side of the line. “You sure you’re still followin’?”

“Yes, I am still following”, Ieyasu said. “I got everything written down in my notes—“

“Your  _notes_? You took  _notes_?”

Ieyasu pouted, though he knew Motochika wouldn’t be able to see it. “Is there something wrong with taking notes? I want to make sure I remember everything later—“

“You—when I said ‘follow’, I thought you were y’know, actually getting some  _practice_  in!”

Ieyasu’s mouth twisted in weird directions that he previously thought impossible.

“Motochika, I am not going to masturbate while speaking to a friend on the phone, that’s—no! Why would you even—“

“Well you’re having the problem right now, aren’tcha? Why else would you call me?!”

“That’s not—that’s none of your business! Idiot Chika!!!” Ieyasu yelled, and rapidly disconnected the call. He slammed the phone down on the table with a little more force than was necessary. Then, he groaned, and leaned over on the table with his elbows to the surface.

He  _knew_  he was going to regret this stupid idea of his.

The pages of his notebook scratched against the fabric of his school shirt in protest. Frowning, he sat back up and gave it a baleful look.

His problem wasn’t going away on its own.

“I’ll thank him tomorrow”, Ieyasu muttered under his breath, and hesitantly began to unfasten his pants.  

He had what he needed; he only hoped that it would be enough.


End file.
